


You Don't Love Me Anymore

by withdiamonds



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-05-21
Updated: 2001-05-21
Packaged: 2017-10-15 06:47:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/158144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withdiamonds/pseuds/withdiamonds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Weird Al songfic.  I don't remember what I was thinking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Don't Love Me Anymore

_We’ve been together for so very long,_

 _But now things are changing, oh, I wonder what’s wrong._

 _Seems you don’t want me around,_

 _The passion is gone and the flame’s died down._

 _I guess I lost a little bit of self-esteem,_

 _That time that you made it with the whole hockey team._

*

Jim Ellison sat on his couch, remote in hand, idly channel surfing with the volume low. He couldn't hear a thing, the sound was turned down to sentinel-soft, and he wasn’t really concentrating on it. That was okay, because if he really tried, he could read the actors' lips and intuit what the hell was happening onscreen. But he really didn't give a shit about that, he was too busy thinking. Hard.

He couldn't exactly put his finger on it, but things were different. A little off, like milk that's been in the fridge just a little too long. Like beer that's been out of the fridge a little too long. Or like his partner, roommate and lover, when Blair came home last night. Or, rather, this morning. At 3:07 AM, to be exact. In the fucking morning.

Something hadn't been right. It wasn't only that Blair had told Jim he was going to the grocery store at 7:00 PM, and hadn't come home until the wee hours of the morning. It wasn't just that Blair had laughed and said, "Fuck, no, man," when Jim had asked him if he wanted company. It was the smell. The myriad of odors that had accompanied Blair when he snuck in the door at 3:07 in the morning. Jim couldn't quite place all the different scents, although he had isolated semen, several different kinds of after-shave, and that unique sweaty aroma that is universal to locker rooms everywhere.

He turned the TV volume up and sighed. He just couldn't figure out what Blair had been up to.

*

 _You used to think I was nice,_

 _Now you tell all your friends that I’m the Anti-Christ._

 _Oh, why did you disconnect the brakes on my car?_

 _That kind of thing is hard to ignore._

 _Got a funny feeling, you don’t love me anymore._

*

Jim pulled the truck into the employee parking lot at Rainier University. He stuck the flashing light on the roof, in case his Cascade PD bumper sticker wasn't enough to avoid a tow. A few minutes later, he strolled into Blair's office.

One of Blair's fellow TA's was in there, pouring herself a cup of coffee. Jim frowned. Did Sandburg know that people came in here and drank his coffee when he wasn't looking? She glanced up from her pilfering and caught sight of Jim. A look of distaste flashed across her face, then she plunked down her cup and hastened out, glaring at Jim as she sidled past him. He thought about smiling at her, but decided it wouldn't do to encourage petty theft.

Jim picked up the abandoned coffee mug and sniffed at it. Not too much sugar. He shrugged as he took a sip. It would be a shame to waste it.

"What the fuck are you doing here, man?"

Shit, he hadn't even heard Blair come into the office. Jim pulled his handkerchief out of his pants pocket and swabbed at the coffee on his shirt.

"And who said you could just help yourself to coffee?"

"I didn't-"

"Save it. What do you want?" Blair shuffled some papers around on his desk.

"I thought you might want to go out to lunch. Are you busy?" Jim smiled. Blair was so cute when he was busy.

"Of course I'm busy, Jim. I'm always busy. I lead a busy life." Blair sat down at his desk and picked up the telephone. He glanced pointedly up at Jim. "See you later, man."

Disappointed, but understanding, Jim said, "Okay, Chief. Later." He waited a minute, but Blair was already punching in a number on the phone, so Jim smiled at him and exited the office.

*

That night over dinner, Jim was regaling Blair with the events of his afternoon. "So, here I am, Chief, driving down toward the harbor, when the light turns red. But the truck wouldn't stop! I mashed down on the brake, but nothing happened. Not a goddamn thing! I sailed right on through that intersection. Lucky for me, no one was coming the other way."

"Yeah. Lucky." Blair's voice was sour as he concentrated on his food.

"Something wrong, Chief? You seem a little...off," Jim asked with concern.

"I'm fine," Blair answered shortly. "So, did you find out what was wrong with your brakes?"

Jim studied his guide. There was something odd about the way he asked about Jim's truck. Like maybe he was nervous about something. Jim sniffed the air. Yes, he definitely smelled nerves.

Jim's eyes narrowed as he watched Sandburg eat. He really needed to figure out what was going on with his lover.

*

 _I knew that we were having problems when,_

 _You put those piranhas in my bathtub again._

 _You’re still the light of my life,_

 _Oh, darling, I’m begging, won’t you put down that knife._

 _You know, I even think it’s kinda cute the way,_

 _You poison my coffee just a little each day._

*

Ahh, breakfast in the Ellison-Sandburg household. Not always the most idyllic of meals. Jim put his hands up, trying to placate his lover. "Blair, that's a really big knife just for buttering toast. If you keep waving it around like that, someone's going to get hurt."

"Shut up, Jim. I can't believe you killed my fish. Those were really rare, man. They cost me an arm and a leg."

Zoological humor. That was so sweet. "I'm really sorry, Chief. I didn't see them in the tub when I tried to take a bath. I didn't know they were there until that big one bit my ass. What kind of piranhas were they, again? " Jim took a swallow of his coffee. "Chief, do you think the coffee's been tasting a little funny lately? Maybe we should change brands."

Jim inhaled sharply as Blair stomped out of the kitchen, the carving knife he had been using to cut the toast into neat triangles quivering in the air as it protruded from the cutting board just a few inches from Jim's hand.

*

 _I still remember the way that you laughed,_

 _When you pushed me down the elevator shaft._

 _Oh, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s this poisonous cobra_

 _Doing in my underwear drawer?_

 _Sometimes I get to thinkin’_

 _You don’t love me anymore._

*

"It sure is a good thing you've had some experience riding on top of elevator cars, Jim," Simon said to his best detective. They were standing in the lobby of the police station, chatting, after Jim had crawled out through the elevator doors that the maintenance man had pried open for him. "How did you end up in there, anyway?"

"Well, it was the oddest thing, sir. Sandburg and I were waiting for the elevator, up on the seventh floor. When the doors opened, there was nothing there, just empty space. I guess the elevator malfunctioned somehow or another. All of a sudden, Blair grunted like he had just had one of his usual brainstorms, and I'm sure it's my imagination, Captain, but it felt like he...gave me a little push. And I sort of stumbled through the open doors. Luckily, the elevator car was on the sixth floor, so I didn't fall very far."

"Hmmph. He must have lost his balance, Jim. Is he feeling all right? Not working too hard? Getting enough sleep?" Simon fixed Jim with his best glare. "Are you looking out for him, Ellison?"

 

"God, Simon, how can you even ask that? Of course I am!" Jim was indignant at Simon's implication. He would never let anything happen to his Blair.

"Okay, okay. Don't get your ‘nads in a knot." Simon stopped talking and looked around. "Where is Sandburg, anyway? Didn't he come down here to check on you?"

"I don't know where he went, Simon. We were in the middle of a conversation about something that happened this morning when I ...slipped." Jim paused, then continued animatedly. "It was the damnedest thing, Simon. There was a snake in my underwear this morning."

"I don't want to hear about your sex life, Ellison, for Christ's sake." Simon rolled his eyes and grimaced.

"No, no, sir, in the dresser drawer with my underwear. I was asking Blair how he thought it got there, and then the elevator doors opened." Jim pondered this for a minute. "Come to think of it, he did look a little relieved when those doors opened."

"What are you saying, Jim? You think Blair had something to do with a snake in your underwear? In your drawers, I mean? I mean-shit." Simon broke off, flustered.

"I don't know what I think, Simon. But he has been a little distant lately. Excuse me. I've got to go find my partner."

*

 _You slammed my face down on the BBQ grill._

 _Now my scars are all healing but my heart never will._

 _You set my house on fire,_

 _You pulled out my chest hairs with an old pair of pliers._

*

Jim sat at his desk, playing Solitaire on his computer, poised to close it quickly if Simon peeked out of his office. Megan was in there, too, and with the part of his brain that wasn't considering black jacks and red queens, Jim eavesdropped shamelessly on their conversation.

"But Captain, where did those marks on his face come from? They look like burn marks, like somebody branded him. He looks like an escapee from the Triple Bar Ranch."

"Conner, Jim explained that already. He was grilling some steaks the other night out on his balcony, and he had a little...accident. A close encounter with the grill." Simon's voice was patient. But Jim could tell it wasn't going to stay that way much longer. Conner better watch out.

"I understand that, Captain. But how did this...accident happen? Was Sandy there?" Megan could rival Simon in the impatience department.

"Yes, Conner, Sandburg was there. Jim said it was his quick action that kept it from being any worse." Jim could practically feel Simon vibrate with pride all the way from his office. Jim absently scratched his chest while he played a red five on a black six and tried to figure out what Megan's point was. His skin itched where his hair was making an attempt to grow back in. Blair had gotten pretty inventive the last time he tied Jim up during sex.

The phone on Jim's desk rang. It was his neighbor, Mrs. Schwartz. There seemed to have been a small fire in their building this morning, starting in his kitchen. It appeared a bagel had gotten stuck in the toaster. No, Mrs. Schwartz didn't know where that nice Mr. Sandburg was.

*

 _You think I’m ugly and you say I’m cheap._

 _You shaved off my eyebrows while I was asleep._

 _You drilled a hole in my head,_

 _Then you dumped me in a drainage ditch and left me for dead._

*

"I can walk by myself, I don't need a wheelchair," Jim snapped at the orderly who was trying to take him out to the front entrance of the hospital.

"Routine hospital procedure, sir. I think you know that by now. How many times have you and your partner been in here?" The orderly frowned thoughtfully. "Although lately, it seems like it's been you a lot more than it's been him."

Jim gave up the battle and slumped down in the wheelchair. His head hurt anyway, he guessed he could ride. He rubbed at the bandage covering the right side of his head. He suddenly felt confused and overwhelmed by everything. He hoped Simon was outside waiting to drive him home. He needed to talk to him. There were some things going on with Blair that he really needed an unbiased opinion on, and Simon was his man.

Jim hated to admit it, but he was starting to suspect that maybe, just maybe, Blair was having second thoughts about their relationship. As much as he didn't want to consider the possibility, he had to.

He didn't have to be hit over the head with it, he could take a hint as well as the next guy.

*

 _Oh, you know this isn’t really like you at all_

 _You never acted this way before._

 _Honey, something tells me,_

 _You don’t love me anymore._

 _Got a funny feeling,_

 _You don’t love me anymore._

*

Jim was startled awake by the voice of the ESPN play-by-play man screaming hoarsely into the microphone, "Heeeee shoots and scores! Mario Lemieux has just scored in the fifth overtime period to win the game and give the Pittsburgh Penguins a three games to two advantage over the New Jersey Devils in the Eastern Conference finals of the Stanley Cup playoffs!!" The guy was so excited he transcended the low volume setting.

Fifth overtime period? Jesus, what the hell time was it? How long had he been asleep? The kink in his neck told him that it had been quite a while.

Where was Blair? Was he home yet? God, he had been dreaming, awful dreams, all confused and...frightening. In them, Blair didn't love him anymore.

That was something that would never happen, he was sure. But maybe he'd better start paying more attention to things. Maybe his subconscious had picked up on some subtleties that he wasn't aware of.

Maybe he and Blair should talk. Just as that thought completed itself, the door to the loft opened. Jim looked at the clock. 3:07 AM. He smiled.

"Hey, babe. Where have you been?"


End file.
